S and I brought the old camper out to my Mom & Dad's last evening for a night of camping and S'mores. (And wine - of which I was the only one who partook). Mom sat out with us until almost 11. Dad came out and stayed until 11:30 or so. We had a great time.
So here I sit at my parent's house, on my 37th birthday, after a morning of church rummage sales, yard sales, and a fantastic brunch. My mom is sitting across the table from me, muttering to herself about her crazy computer not liking it when she puts a black ten on a black jack. Every once in a while, she tosses in a well isn't that a bummer and proceeds to tell me what she has that should play but can't because, basically, the computer won't let her cheat.
My dad is firmly ensconced in his Laz-Z-Boy knock-off, watching the TV. He's muttering about how U of M coaching hasn't been the same since Bo retired and how the whole football program is going to hell in a hand-basket. Especially since they're currently losing to Indiana (Go Hoosiers! I tend to root for whoever is playing Michigan. U of M fans drive me frakin' nuts.) He's also talking to his dog. Maybe he's telling the dog about U of M football. Either way, he's covered from toes to chin in his maroon fuzzy blanket. I wish I had a camera.
About an hour ago, mom beat me three games in a row in Rummikub. I'm going to demand my re-match now.
I'm having a great birthday.